Ghost
by thegleestoryteller
Summary: Quinn's been murdered and it's up to Noah Puckerman and Santana Lopez to catch her killer. With time running out, and a little help from beyond the grave, will the pair catch the killer? {Quick, side Brittana, Klaine and Finchel.}


_**Hey there. So this was just an idea but let's see how it goes."Ghost."**_

_**Prolouge**_

_I watch as the police bombard my apartment. It's like a scene from CSI. They put on their latex gloves and soon they're taping the stereotypical 'Police scene do not cross,' over my front door. They're in their jump suits, careful not to mix their DNA in amongst the evidence. They poke and swab at my broken body, desperate to work out anything they can as quickly as possible. And I let them I let them use me like I'm just another job to them. I let them take out their high tech cameras and state of the art lenses and let the snap their pictures of my cuts and my bruises. I can't stop them. I can't tell them to put their equipment away and leave me be. I can't tell them to stop swabbing, or taking their damned pictures. Why? Because I'm dead._

*….*….*…..*….*

I realised I was gone when I was able to look at myself. I know that sounds ridiculous. Being able to look at yourself but it's true. More importantly the first thing that reached my train of thought was the fact that I wasn't on my way to heaven. Why wasn't I own my way to heaven? It definitely wasn't because I was supposed to go to hell. I would've been there by now. I was also so focused on what had happened that I didn't even see the face of my killer. That's ironic.

Three days. Three days and nobody was yet to find my body. I had people knocking and my phone ringing, but nobody finding. I don't actually know who tipped off the police but I was thankful. Boredom had begun to strike. I was too scared to leave my body. If I wondered off and didn't see it getting taken. So here I am. Sitting on my couch, head in my hands and watching them work away at me. One cop sighs,

'Shame too, she really is a pretty one. I could have-'

'You could have what?' I turn to see a woman. Latina maybe. She's dressed in a fitting suit. Her badge clearly visible from her belt. She's distinctively different from the others around the room. She demands authority as soon as she's inside the room. I get up to inspect her badge. It's new, this ghost thing. I can be right in her face and she'll be known the wiser. I read it off,

'Santana Lopez.' I look into her cold face. She's here to do her job and she's not taking any crap from anyone. She walks right through me. Over to the man who had made the earlier comment. He immediately blushed and backed away.

'Nothing Agent Lopez.'

'Good.' She makes her way over to me and bends down. She puts on her latex gloves and gently places her hands to the burns around my neck. I wince slightly as she does so. Even though I can't physically feel it, it makes me uncomfortable. 'These markings are distinct,' she says with a sad voice. 'She looks to have put up a good fight against him, clearly not good enough.' I feel stupid then. Did she think I should have been able to fight him off? If my killer was even a him. She stands and pulls off her gloves. Her eyes scan the room, 'Where is Puckerman?' She says in a frustrated tone.

Nobody in the room answers her. She lets out a sigh. 'Well I guess he'll miss getting to do his own inspection. You can wrap her u-'

'Wait!' A voice calls outside, 'I'm coming, I'm coming.' Another officer, dressed in a suit follows in. I'm completely taken away by his appearance. He's not clean cut like Santana. He's more messy. His hair is shaved into a Mohawk and his shirt is un-tucked. That being said I can't help but find him attractive, really attractive. 'Well, I was getting you your coffee,' he hands her a small paper bag. He repeats the same procedure as Santana before standing. He tucks his hands into his pockets, 'Shame really.'

'What is?' She asks, sipping her coffee,

'She looks like the type of girl I'd go for.' He sends her a cheesy grin. I'm far from impressed now. Any shots of me finding him attractive have totally and completely been shot out the window.

'Idiot,' I scoff and roll my eyes. But then he looks up. He looks up and directly at me. He's staring at me, a look of confusion in his face. His nose slightly scrunched. He shakes his head and gets back to talking to Santana. There's no way he heard me. Right? I shrug it off to the fact that I'm now standing amongst a group of them. Nobody can hear ghosts. The paramedics soon wrap up my body and the pair of them are off together, discussing details about how to track down my killer. I follow them, curious as to how they're going to track them down.

They clamber into their car, I'm not 100% sure that this is going to work for me. I reluctantly put my hands out in front of me and walk through the car door. I sigh as I find myself seated in the back seat. Soon they're off in the direction of their building. They've got the typical duo dynamic. I can't help but laugh at their antics in the back seat.

'I'm telling you, Tiva will end up together in NCIS,' Puckerman states.

'You're so wrong, Puck, he's way too good for her, I'm telling you.' Puck shakes his head at her. I should be annoyed that they aren't discussing my case but I'm not. They seem like the type of people I, myself would be friends with. I sigh a little as I realise I won't get the opportunity to know now. They pull over to their building. I follow them out. I feel weird being in a Government building. So insignificant. Then I remember, nobody can actually see me. I follow Santana and Puck into an office marked with the name of William Schuester.

He's a completely different story from the duo. He's older, demands even more respect than Santana. He looks at the pair, "tell me what we got", he asks and runs a hand through his curly brown hair.

Santana opens a folder and sticks my picture on a board. I scoff at my appearance. Of course they'd pick that one, I look horrific. Puck turns again slightly as the noise leaves my lips, I notice him shake it off and fold his arms across his chest. "Lucy Quinn Fabray. Found dead in her apartment. Strangled." Santana removes three more pictures. One of my dead body. Another of my neck and another of my bruised arms.

"We think she was attacked from the back. Given this we think her killer didn't expect her to be as strong as she was and ended up hitting her." They were good. I relived the moment my head, everything so far was pinpoint.

"Good," William, I'm guessing, remarked, "Anything else?"

"There is one more thing." Puck retreives a plastic bag. A plastic bag that has my phone in it. How had I missed them picking up that? "The last taken call was three days ago."

"That's how long the paramedics said she'd been lying there." Santana folded her arms.

"And who was that from?" William asks, engrossed in what they're saying.

The pair look at eachother, "Rachel Berry." Santana says in a low voice.

"The Rachel Berry? The broadway actress?" the duo nod. "Well then, bring her in. She's suspect number one."

* * *

**Okay, so tell me what you think. Did Rachel kill Quinn?**

**If the story gets enough interest I'll keep going. Hopefully I'll see you again**


End file.
